I understand that you’ve no inherent reason to take any reviewer (or writer, for that matter) at their word. I mean, there’s nothing stopping me from making up personal anecdotes and passing it off as truth. However, I swear the following is as true as anything I’ve ever said. I believed Wild Cub was up to album number four. Their brand of sparkly indie-rock with tinges of pop feels like what Arcade Fire was doing ten years ago. Maybe I filed a whole bunch of it away in my mind as more Wild Cub. Actually, I would still be adding albums to that sum if not reviewing Closer. I don’t think that says much about how remarkable the band is.

But to be completely fair, there’s nothing wrong with Closer in a vacuum. It’s all accomplished tunes that will sound great even after they accompany car commercials in ten years. If you’ve not become allergic to this decade’s tendency to place a “woah-oh-oh” in place of literally anything else, you’ll probably get more out of this than I did.